


Stingray

by 8lapetitehirondelle8



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8lapetitehirondelle8/pseuds/8lapetitehirondelle8
Summary: It was the Corvette's fault.No, really. That’s what sparked all this in the first place. And just look where you’ve ended up.





	Stingray

**Author's Note:**

> This woke me up out of a dead sleep last night and wouldn't let me alone, so... here you go, I guess.
> 
> P.S. This was cobbled together in about two hours, so it hasn't been proof read - apologies for any gawdawfulness in that respect!!!

**Stingray**

It was the Corvette’s fault.

No, really. That’s what sparked all this in the first place. And just look where you’ve ended up.

It was on loan to the show from a very particular collector. A 1969 Stingray, blacker than black inside and out. It had arrived that morning and was just sitting there on the track as smug as could be - if a car could be smug. It looked edible and it knew it.

You’d reverently run your fingertips over its undulating body work. It had the kind of paint job that felt like pure nothingness when you touched it, made your senses argue with themselves. It WAS there, you could SEE it, but under your hand there was just… air… gorgeous, shining, ebony air. It was absolutely giving you a taste of James’ ‘fizz’, and apparently it wasn’t just doing it to you. The three of them had wandered over during your prayerful first meeting with the vehicle and were stood opposite you, at its other side, taking in the view.

“That,” said Richard, “Is a thing of beauty.”

“Unabashed vehicular pornography,” James offered.

“If it were a woman,” started Jeremy, “Well… you know.”

“Me, too,” Richard replied without tearing his eyes away from the ‘Vette.

“Absolutely,” murmured James.

Your mind wandered for a moment, but you called it back before you could dissolve into a fit of embarrassed giggles because the image you’d just encountered in your mind was ridiculous, but in a tingly way. An NSFW way, and you were meant to be working out how to shoot the artsy bits to sprinkle throughout Richard’s film footage. You focused determinedly on one of the glistening badges at the machine’s side and chewed your lip.

“Makes you wonder what the Artistic Mastermind is going to do with it.” Jeremy was talking about you, you knew it. You raised an eyebrow at him across the Stingray and moved to look at it from a more diagonal viewpoint as he continued, “Sparks, do you think? You know, the fountain-y sort?”

“Stunt driver using the tyres to paint something on a giant white canvas?” Richard thought aloud.

“Montage footage, I should think,” said James thoughtfully, “You know, double exposure, the car and a lady, a sort of mirror effect.”

“That’s not a half bad idea. That’s exactly what I would do, actually, if it were left to me.” That was Jeremy again. The three of them were nodding in agreement now, you could see it out of the corner of your eye. “I mean, look at the curves of it, the undulations,” he was playing his hand across the air in front of him now, following the line of the body work, “It doesn’t have any edges. Just swooping changes of direction.” He’d moved behind you during this description and his words sent a delicious chill through you.

At this point, James moved as well, alongside you now, saying, “There’s something delectable in the sweep of the wheel wells, don’t you think? Makes you want to taste it.”

Richard hummed appreciatively, at the opposite side of you from James, continuing his thought, “Put it through its paces and reward it the best way you know how.”

The air was heavy at this point, and you realized you hadn't breathed in rather a while. Then, as suddenly as it had descended, the feeling dissipated at a chirp and a nudge to your elbow from Richard.

“Pub tonight?”

You let out a strangled ‘ _M_ _eep,_ ’ and nod.

“Fantastic,” said James, and then the three of them were off to something else, leaving you pondering what in the buggering fuck had just happened.

 

*******

 

You hadn’t had time to think about it much more after that, though. The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of shooting and reshooting and back-to-the-drawing-board-ing, and by the time you got to the pub that evening you’d nearly forgotten about the moment that morning. That is, until the three of them had taken up residence at your table and plied you with a second Old Fashioned. The tension was seeping back into the conversation, laden with possibility. You had a feeling you knew where this was headed. Not being one to back down from a challenge, you nonchalantly pulled a trick out of your university days and tied the stem from the cherry in your drink into a knot with your tongue, pulling it tight with your teeth and gently setting it back into your now empty glass. As you did, you pretended not to notice Richard lick his lips and take a shaky breath. James and Jeremy had been in the middle of a heated discussion about power sliding a Golf, and Jeremy chose this moment to flap a hand at you and say,

“Even SHE could do it, I reckon, I mean, it’s a simple enough car to drive.”

Without thinking, you huffed and said, “With one arm tied behind my back!”

James raised an eyebrow as Jeremy leaned across the table, looking you dead in the eyes, “Anything on your personal agenda for the rest of the evening, then?”

Your sly smile and dangerous wink had sealed it, then, and somehow the four of you drifted away from the bustle of your colleagues and ended up back at James’ place.

No time was wasted once you all reconvened. For you, it was a revolving door of kisses and caresses and them guiding you upstairs and somehow all of you ending up naked and resplendent in the bedroom. It was a heady feeling, being the absolute centre of attention, half exhilarating and half intensely exposed, but you persevered and gave as good as you got. That is, until James took your arms away. He gave you a word in exchange - ‘Stingray’, of course, because he’s twisted like that - and he settled behind you on the bed as soon as he’d finished securing your wrists ever so gently to the headboard. The other two were still all hungry hands and mouths all over your body, even while James talked you quietly through what he was up to behind you. It was equal parts terrifying and outrageously sensual, especially since clearly _something_ was going _somewhere_ you’d always told yourself was off limits in this particular activity, but he handled it with such openness and honesty and care that you were willing to follow him wherever he saw fit to lead you. After an interval, and once James was securely inside you from behind, Jeremy engaged the traditional method, and having the two of them inside you at once was so far from objectionable that you sighed languidly into Richard’s mouth which was still on yours, especially when someone - not that you could tell which hands belonged to which man at this point - did something exquisite to _that_ spot, circling it with a broad fingertip, making you shudder with pleasure. Richard’s mouth left yours then and was replaced with… well, there it was, anyway, and while your mind boggled at the logistics of how he’d managed to get it there around the other two, you found after a split second that you couldn’t care less about the laws of physics for the moment and, relaxing your jaw, you swirled your tongue _just so_ and were rewarded with a lurid groan.

It was all a tangled mess of sensation and heat and breath after that. The three of them fell into rhythm with each other and you did your level best to maintain contact with each of them individually. Richard was the easiest, obviously, and you applied yourself to the best of your ability. You’d slung a leg over Jeremy’s earlier to grant both him and James easier access to your more sensitive parts and now you were using it to stroke up and down the length of Jeremy’s leg, urging him on. James had one hand wrapped above yours on a slat of the headboard and you’d managed to tangle some fingers with his. The pace eventually became frenetic, and between that circling fingertip and the intense friction from the combination of James and Jeremy inside of you, you came with an intensity you’d never have believed possible, gasping, and then swallowing around Richard, who came furiously down the back of your throat. Your whole body clenched up, and you felt more than heard the shout from James behind you as he had his turn, followed shortly by Jeremy with a grunt and a rumble and a shaky release of breath.

The sibilant curses and appeals to deities which had filled the air during the previous minutes were suddenly and overwhelmingly replaced with soft, loving murmurs and praise and the sound of your name. All the touches gentled and soothed. There was an expanse of time where everything spun and shuddered, but by and by you fluttered most of the way back to yourself and were content to stay put, your body having turned completely to jelly. One by one, they disappeared and returned to you. Someone gave you your arms back and massaged the feeling back into them for you, while someone else gave you a quick tidy, the third one stroking your hair throughout. You fell asleep under the gentle ministrations of three disembodied pairs of hands, to the chorus of three distinct faceless voices.

And that’s where you found yourself when you woke up this morning in a muddled lump of warmth, with three utterly ridiculous men who somehow manage to defy all logic and look like complete angels when they sleep. Jeremy is behind you now, spooned up to you with a protective arm around your waist. Richard is directly in front of you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other with one of your hands. James is behind Richard, one arm across him, resting a hand on your hip. You let out a contented breath and James stirs, opening his eyes and smiling at you over Richard’s head, bringing the hand on your hip up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking lazily from below your eye back into your hair. You return the smile and shift a little, which causes Jeremy to tighten his grip on your waist and murmur sleepily, “Mmmph. Mine.”

Richard, who apparently isn’t as asleep as you thought, disentangles his hand from yours and thumps Jeremy’s shoulder, “Share, you bastard.” His eyes flick open and he leans into you, nuzzling his nose on yours, making you giggle.

The three of them curl around you a little tighter, and you think maybe you should be grateful to that stupid, beautiful, smug Stingray after all.


End file.
